Oh Hi There, Rocco
Striped ribbons of brindle converging into rings like a turtle’s shell expanding and contracting rhythmically; the space between ribs and waist decreasing on the exhale and increasing with each breath.
Back paws extended like a rotisserie chicken, bat-ears perked up at all times, unless pulled back when using their pig-shaped faces and bulging, inquisitive eyes to drill deep into your soul - imprinting like a firstborn (4-legged) does.
Within moments of staring at his 16-week-old self, a little old gremlin stared back; just on digital print, I could tell this one was special. Dubbed Romeo by the first set of humans responsible for spawning him, shortly thereafter christened as Rocco.
Sourced from the Amish like a piece of furniture, he was exchanged for the equivalent of what I assumed could secure a few horses to pull their buggies. By the end of the day, he experienced the horrific traffic heading to the Chicago airport, the initial oohs & ahhs from passerbys, and cush, broad seats arranged 2-2 towards the front of the plane.
From Amish farm to the streets of DC, his hay-padding bedding turned to feather-down. He had made it, a DINK (technically) household of two millennial, gay men projecting what modern life has come to. He became the most prized possession and began to assume he must be one of them, at least the human parts.
Navigating a foot off the ground provided itself with key advantages, especially when navigating through big, bright places with fresh smells and occasional tiny morsels of edible bits. When I didn’t relieve the liquid inside me or leave the big mushy piles of non-absorbed nutrients in the “warm place”, I got these salty, crunchy, circular bits and chewy strips that filled my belly. Different from the little pebbles that tasted all the same. We preferred that which came from Him, and sometimes even the high-up place I couldn’t see or reach. But whenever I craned my head up, and touched my nub of flesh that protroduded from my backside to the ground - the other creatures had long nudges that waived all over when I passed by them in the “cold place”, which is full of memories that I capture by brushing my nose side to side - He fed me those morsels.
Sometimes I get glued to one spot, my mouth starts to convulse up and down, uncontrollably. Sometimes my mouth salivates, and little bubbles appear on the sides of my lush lips. I’ve surmised I’m not like all the other ones that walk on all four of their paws. It’s got to do with these little hard bits towards my nub. It’s a big ole bulge that the others don’t seem to have. They smell different, or do I?
The other reason I know I’m different is because when I stop, and dig all my hindside down and bow my neck towards the ground, pulling as hard as i can against the ablicord that connects us, I still don’t get to play behind the metal poles pointing up, that try as I might I cannot jump over. Only He makes them move out of the way. When it does move I get to run, and jump, and smell all the moving creatures.
The ones with long snouts, I don’t know if I trust them. The towering ones that look like their bellys are never filled, seem mean. Sometimes I have to shout at them to stay away from me with the other short-snouts like Me. I dig and kick below me so forcefully, I break what’s below me, and little bits of it come flying up behind me. That’s when I mean business, and I let everyone around me know I’ve got their hindside!
In the magical place, there are lots of small packs of us that roam together, some venture into other packs, and others venture into ours, and because we all love this place with the hidden memories of old, we roam in peace, and shout when we find something worth sharing. It’s fun to make new memories too, so when others visit, they know I was there, and I know they were there, and even if we’ve never met, we both know how special this place is. It’s funny, because no matter when the last time you were in there, when you’re back, it’s like you were just there!
Sometimes the smells have layers - lots and lots of layers - and that’s when I stay still, and take deep breaths in. It’s all so overwhelming, but that’s why I stay still and just breathe. I feel connected to echoes of memories, with my eyes closed, I see black and white moving and swirling all around. It doesn’t make any sense to me, but nothing really does if I stay long enough in one spot. He comes to my rescue, small little taps on my rear, and then on top of my head. They break the spell of smells.
He has always been there. As far back as I can remember. There were once other smells, the first smells. I miss those, and I haven’t smell them since the beginning, but when I close my eyes and drift off to the dark warm place, it’s meek, but I remember warmth, darkness, nuzzling into something that felt like me. Exactly like me. Now it’s Him, and the way I feel about him. It’s more compelling then all the other smells combined.
It’s the feeling of lying on my back, and exposing my soft tummy up to what’s usually above me -
It’s the feeling of warm, salty morsels from the high-up place that makes me drool -
It’s the feeling of being under the soft, warm layers when it’s dark out, and I get to experience different kinds of smells. Like echoes of the ones I know to be true -
It’s when I look up while relieving myself, and our eyes lock - I know I can continue, and He’s got my hindside.
He brings me everywhere with him, for the most part. If not, I follow him. Unless he puts me in a place where only magic or He can release me. I know it’s time to go to that place when these sounds start playing. I don’t know where they come from, because the only other time I have heard them was when He took me to this magical place - the ground was soft, it melted under my paws until it didn’t - every step I took felt like this. Once I got used to it, it felt otherworldly, wet, and cold. He took me up to where the sounds were coming from, and my nose was glued to a spot where these little hard-shelled creatures, smaller than the hard tippy part of my paw, surfaced from the melty ground. I sniffed it, and that’s when I knew I loved this place. Almost as much as Him.
One time he took all my things, put them in the big things where morsals and enemies I take apart arrive by magic. Usually He only brings a few of these items with us when we take adventures to other, outside places. I don’t know how we ever get there, but I know that I need to stay closeby to him, watching the things we bring with us, and I can’t get distracted by smells. It’s serious business. Because I stay closeby Him, always touching a part of Him. He is Me, and I am Him. Sometimes I feel something spike in Him, it’s a smell and memory combined. That’s when I jump onto his lap, lean up against him, and we connect eyes. I always go to lick him to make sure He knows I am there. Sometimes I keep licking him, all over. His short snout, his open crevices all over, until he puts his big paw on my chest and rubs it. He has to keep rubbing it for many lengths of smells, or I start licking him again and lock our eyes.
I am Him, He is Me
It’s a weird concept to love a dog so much, it’s equal parts fantasy of what parenthood looks like and acknowledging what might be the same if this was a human child. There are parts of my childhood that shine so brightly I want to unlock what holds me back and create another. It’s never been the right time, but great things come to those who wait.
I know that my experience with Rocco is shaping me in lots of ways for what’s to come. Then again, the same can be true for all of our experiences. I’ve toyed with the idea of getting Rocco a companion, one like Him. His separation anxiety is real, and the temping idea of Him not ever being alone, is alluring. My finances and parental guilty would, without a doubt, be impacted.
He’s lived a good life, and He better stick around for many, many, many, many more years. Our bucket list includes an international trip to Palermo, buying a home where he has his own yard, and I can finally bring all our possessions to one place that is Ours. I’d like him to meet my first human child, too. I think that patience on this front will pay off sooner rather than later.
Now that we’re back in Ventura County, here are the places that are good fun for Him and I to make new memories and experience new & old smells combined:
Top Dog-Friendly Experiences:
Activities:
Food & Beverage:
A Loving Pawrent,
Nate a.ka. He/Him
